A Little Credit
by maguena1
Summary: Grissom is not quite that inept at communicating.  But there are things he's stopped saying a while back.


**Title:** A Little Credit

**Author:** Maguena

**Disclaimer: **CSI and all characters therein are owned by CBS and Alliance Atlantis, not me. No infringement intended.

**Notes:** Written for the http://community. prompt #13, "Uneven Table," with thanks to SLWatson for sparking off the initial train of thought. Catherine Willows/Gil Grissom implied. Criticism welcomed with open arms.

When Catherine finally tracked him down, it was in his office, crouched down by the side of his desk and frowning.

"Gil? What are you doing?"

He didn't look up, but he made a sound that could be interpreted as welcoming. "It's this desk. It's shaky, and all my files," he gestured with definite exasperation towards the stacks, "keep sliding off."

Catherine investigated the mess on the big, solid desk with a critical look, and tried not to laugh. "Are you sure it's the fault of the desk? It looks, hmm, like someone's been assaulting the innocent little sheets of paper." If the desk was uneven, it wasn't visible to the naked eye. Brass had been sitting at it for years without fiddling with it. If Gil spent half the time actually doing his paperwork that he spent on avoiding it...

The exasperation on Gil's face intensified. "You expected me to like it?"

"Not at all." She smiled broadly to let him know that she was teasing, and tapped her own set of files against her palm. "The bloodwork came back on the Travis case. The brother was definitely at the scene, but there was also an unidentified."

He pushed his glasses up. "And the brother is still sticking to his story?"

"Yes, he is." She lifted her hands, then let them drop. "Greg hasn't finished running the DNA database, though - we might get lucky. Warrick has gone back to the brother's apartment to see what else he can find, now that we know there are two suspects."

"Good." For a moment, there was something very tired on Gil's face, before he looked up again. "Hey, would you mind helping me with this desk? It's not easy for one person to maneuver it."

"Sure, but I'm due to leave for court in about half an hour."

"This won't take long. I'll just hold up this edge while you try sliding something underneath. Then we test the results. If it's too thick, or too thin, we calculate the optimal change in thickness that might produce maximum stability."

He was trying a bit too hard to be lighthearted, but she still smiled. "Sounds like a plan." Cases rarely got to Gil, but something about this one was obviously setting him off. A brother battering his own sister to death set her off, too. She'd never asked what raw spot such cases touched in him, though in her line of work, she could imagine quite a few possibilities. It might not be anything personal, even. Maybe it was just the decent man in him that could not bear it when others were not so decent.

He handed her a stack of blank printer paper. "Here, try this. I'll trim the extra bits off once we get the desk just right. The wobbly corner is that one." He came around to the visitor's side of the desk, and leaned across to grab the far edge.

She sat down crosslegged by the chair and held the sheaf of paper in both hands. "Ready." He tilted the desk with a grunt that probably meant his back would be regretting this later; she slid in the paper neatly. "Okay now."

He lowered the desk far too quickly, and the papers - both above and below the desk - flew off in all directions. Catherine was sure she saw him wince. "It's okay, Gil, I've got it." She tried to stand up, but suddenly, felt a sharp yank and her scalp began to throb. "Ow!"

Gil peered over the side. "Cath? Ah, your hairpin got caught by the edge."

She ducked her head to disengage herself, and leaned back. "Yeah. Ow, my head." She reached up to take the hairpin out; it was half twisted off, anyway. No scratches that she could see, and she sighed in relief. It was her favorite hairpin - a present from Gil, in fact. From way back, when they had only been working together a year or two, but had already become good friends. He'd given her the case full of butterflies for Christmas, and the dragonfly hairpin for her birthday.

She could hear him in her head even now. "They're not real diamonds, of course, but I thought you might like it." His voice had been so stifled and embarrassed. Young Gil had been even more awkward with people than the present one, and she knew that he hadn't had a lot of experience in selecting presents. She'd told him that it was beautiful and that she loved it, and it was true. It was a little bit too much for everyday wear, and Eddie had gotten absurdly jealous, claiming that nobody should be giving his girlfriend such presents, but she'd worn it at least once a month ever since. She liked the heavy feel of it in her hair. She liked being reminded of how Gil had given it to her at the beginning of their friendship, now that they had been friends for years, through everything. It was something made to last.

Gil's voice brought her out of her reverie. "Something wrong?"

"No, no, it's fine. I was just remembering how you gave it to me." With a practiced motion, she set the hairpin back in place. "It's my favorite of all the presents you ever gave me, did you know that?"

"No," he said slowly. "I didn't," and there was that intent, mouth half-open look on his face, the one he gave to surprising pieces of evidence.

She grinned. "It's got some close contenders, but it is my favorite." She got up, this time without accidents, and started picking up the scattered papers. Over her shoulder, she tossed at him, "You didn't think the box of chocolate-covered grasshoppers was anywhere near the top, did you?"

"Catherine, give me just a little credit?"

"You're sure?" she teased, as she stacked the papers and folders near an office wall. Let Gil, for his sins, sort the mess out later.

"You just said that I made the right choice with the hairpin."

"That's true, you did. Although you should have heard Eddie go on about it. He was saying that you shouldn't have presumed to give it to me until after ten years of legally wedded bliss." She snorted at the memory.

"Ah." She looked up - his lips were thoughtfully pursed.

"He was exaggerating, Gil. By a _rather_ large amount. It was a good present."

"Well," he said, still thoughtful. "He married you just a few months after that, so I suppose he would know."

"The knowledge that Lindsey was going to arrive into the world - changed things."

"I know." He heaved a sigh, and leaned over the table again. "Ready to try once more?"

"Yeah." She freed the few pages still trapped by the weight of the desk, and tapped them into a neat stack. Within a few tries, Gil pronounced himself satisfied. Catherine looked at her watch, and frantically tried to remember where she had put down the Travis files. Gil helped her look, although he was oddly silent as they rifled through the stacks. When they did find the files, Catherine all but ran for the door. As she was opening it, she half-turned to say good-bye, and saw that Gil was watching her intently again. He half-opened his mouth to say something, and then something very still crossed his face, and he dropped his eyes.

"Good luck in court, Catherine."

"Thanks. I'll see you later."


End file.
